


How?

by ObscuredByClouds



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-18 16:38:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10620885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscuredByClouds/pseuds/ObscuredByClouds
Summary: John wasn’t going to fool himself thinking that any other person besides Paul was truly and fully meant for him. Paul and John were meant to be and he knew this, he knew it from the very core of his soul. They are one soul split in two and now that his life was ending; he could feel the intense yearning for his soulmate flood him and he begged for a second chance.After John is shot he wakes up almost 20 years in the past. This time he'll get it right.





	1. New York, New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have had this idea in my mind for a while now, so I thought I could give it a shot. It's the first fic I write and English is not my native language, so I'm sorry in advance for any mistake. I hope this ends up being at least a bit enjoyable. 
> 
> cheers!

White hot pain shot through his whole being as if he had been struck by thunder and confusion jumbled his brain for a second.

_What was that?_

He had never felt anything like that.

He had been shot several times, his brain provided somehow slowly; everything seem to be going in slow motion. The explosion from the gun was still ringing in his ears and the air filled with the fiery smell of powder, clueing him on the source of the pain.

Then chaos exploded all around him.

John took a shuddering breath that instantly morphed into a gurgling sound; blood pooling in his mouth and making him choke. John tried to walk only to find that his legs weren’t responding and he couldn’t do anything but fall. 

 _Oh._ _It clicked in his mind._

This was it, John was sure of it; this was the end for him. It was frightening, how okay he was with it, how easily he accepted it. How numb he already felt.

He has had a great life, he supposed. He had conquered the world, he had fulfilled his dream, he had made more money that he could ever dream to spend, he had partied… he had loved. He had lived a lifetime worth of experiences in his 40 years and he was okay with it. Maybe this was for the best; he had always said he was tired of life, of the meaninglessness of it all. He had sung about it, he had talked about it in interviews –even if those answers where enshrouded in his typical cynicism- but he always meant it. He was tired.

 _Yer Blues_ , came to his mind and John couldn’t help the small chocked chuckle that scape from his lips at the memory. How fucked up was he? Thinking nonsense at this time.

Things never felt quite right for him, he always felt wrong in his skin and he never felt as he did anything right. This was for the best, John was sure of it.

This way he didn’t have to see himself getting old, he would have to see everyone getting fed up with his music. He wouldn’t have to see somebody else close to him die.

John could feel the pain recede, leaving only numbness and coldness in its wake.

“John!” People were screaming around him, calling his name, he could hear the sirens in the distance and something, a blanket maybe- was put over him, he didn’t know, everything felt so far away, so disconnected, like he was underwater, blackness was starting to consume him. He couldn’t answer, he wanted to, he wanted to say something, to say goodbye. 

Goodbye sounded so definitive John felt a shiver shake his body at the thought and the numbness was lifted momentarily.

“John!”

That was Yoko, Yoko was screaming, she sounded frantic and suddenly a whole new level of awareness came crashing down on him. Yoko. Everyone.

_No, not goodbye.No._

John felt the familiar grip of panic squeezing him. Oh god, this couldn’t be it! How he was going to miss them, Yoko, Sean… Sean, for god’s sake, his boy. He wouldn’t be there to see him grow, to scare the monsters away. John felt tears pooling in his eyes. He hadn’t been thinking on them, he wasn’t tired of them.

No, he takes back everything he has said, he didn’t want to die!

Thoughts on everyone and everything he was leaving behind began filtering his brain and John wanted to be sick.

He still has a lot of things to do. He still has too many regrets, things he wants to fix… friendships he wants to renew.

Friends… John felt as if the word had slammed against him.

 _Paul._ There still was Paul… _The thought permeated his mind as it always did when he thought of his doe-eyed friend. Every other thought left him._

John has spent the last 10 years of his life ignoring that part of his soul that pulled him back to Paul, willfully ignorant of is true feelings, but now that his life was ending that dam broke; he could feel the intense yearning for his soulmate flood him, drown him, pulling him further into the abyss.

Yes, he wasn’t going to fool himself thinking that any other person besides Paul was truly and fully meant for him. Paul and John were meant to be and John knew this, he knew it from the very core of his soul. They are one soul split in two and the energy, rightness and love he felt when the two were together couldn’t compare to anything he has ever felt. Not for Yoko, not for anyone. He loves Yoko, with passion but it just isn’t the same.

 _Why was he so stupid?_ John could feel tears rolling down his face. John never allowed his feelings towards Paul any leeway and now that regret was first on his mind.

 _Would everything have been different?_ John wanted to scream, the thought was too painful.

Was Paul going to miss him? Probably not, not after everything John did to him. He probably won’t even care. Or maybe he will, maybe he will cry. John preferred the former.  

 _Please don’t cry. I hate to be the reason why you cry. I wrote you a song to apologize for that, remember? Jealous Guy. Did I ever tell you I had written it for you?_   _I have more songs for you; I just need more time to record them…_

 _Fuck,_ John cursed at that train of thought. He didn’t have more time. He had spent 5 years sitting on his arse doing nothing, being the perfect “house-husband”, what the fuck has he been thinking? He wasn’t happy, he is only ever happy when he is composing. 

John felt someone shake him softly and he cracked open his eyes. He didn’t remember closing them.

“Do you know who you are?” they asked and he could only nod, he was in an ambulance, John could tell, even without his glasses. How did he get there? “Sir, we need you to stay awake.”

 _He knew why_ _but_ all he wanted right now was to sleep. He knew that if he closed his eyes again it would be for the last time. He was scared so he fought to keep them open.

He was afraid, of course he was. All the bravado from that shit phrase he had said about not being scared of death because it’s just like getting out of a car and into another was utter bullshit. He was scared; the uncertainty of what awaited him scared him. Not seeing Paul ever again terrified him.

_He needed to talk to him._

John could hear the frantic sirens of the ambulance and the paramedics rushed words as they work on him, tugging, pulling, whipping, pushing. How much time did he have left?

John was conscious as he was rushed inside the hospital, he was used to whiteness and sterile environments but as he took in the sight of the long hallway he suddenly felt nauseous; white had never looked as repulsive as it did at that moment.

He wanted to go home, the neon lights were hurting his eyes and he wished for all of this to end. Desperation and pain were starting to crawl their way up into his mind. He didn't want to go this way.  _Please._

When they hauled him to an operating room he felt calmness wash over him like a spell; he instantly knew what it was and his tears renewed.

 _Thank you God, thank you,_ John praised, chocking up with emotion, apparently they still loved him up there because God had sent him one last gift: Paul’s soft voice singing to him, keeping him company, putting him to sleep. 

 _Close your eyes and I'll kiss you_ _  
_Tomorrow I'll miss you_  
_Remember I'll always be true_  
_And then while I'm away_  
_I'll write home every day_  
_And I'll send all my loving to you__

_John smiled._

He was ever so thankful for having met Paul; for everything he did for John, even in his last minutes Paul had managed to calm him and to reassure him.  _Everything is going to be alright, Johnny,_ he heard Paul whisper and he believed him. He felt at peace. 

 _All my loving I send to you,_ John improvised before closing his eyes and letting darkness engulf him.

_I love you._


	2. I've got you under my skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John thinks he is in heaven, and that he is just saying goodbye. He makes a fool of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know where this is going... I hope it's understandable tho and entertaining! and that there aren't many mistakes. Sometimes it feels as if I forget all my English when I'm writing. 
> 
> Also, I wanted to do something different, like, in other time travel fics, they catch up so fast that they are in the past. I would be completely skeptical about it all. I would probably think any other possible scenario before thinking I'm back in time. So yeah, John is pretty confused and saying things thinking it will be his last chance. I hope it's not confusing! 
> 
> Oh and I edited a bit the first chapter... so that.

_“Close your eyes and I'll kiss you_ _  
Tomorrow I'll miss you”_

John woke up with a start, the familiar voice slowly fading from his mind and morphing into Elvis’ familiar suave static-ridden croon coming from a radio. Birds were chirping and the sun was shining bright and directly at his face, making him squint. John looked around disoriented, taking everything in.

His old radio was on, playing his favorite rock songs, his walls were filled with drawings and lyrics and his guitar was propped up against a wall.

Everything was the same, so what did it felt so different? Something was wrong, amiss, he was missing something, and he knew it. He stayed on his bed, feeling lost and awkward.

It didn’t last long though.  

A loud bang jolted John and for the second time in what felt like a few hours, his body felt as it was shocked with electricity. A flurry of images burst into his mind with the strength of a sledgehammer, leaving him panting in pain, with sweat dripping from his face.

_The Dakota, New York, Yoko, Sean, The Beatles, their breakup… Paul._

He was shot!  He had been shot and he was dying.

But he was awake, how could that be?  What happened? John was fighting the heavy fog that was clouding his brain and trying to figure out what was going on, but to no avail.  

Where was Yoko? The last thing he remembered was being dragged into an operating room, and then everything went black.

John could only assume he had survived but he didn’t understand much else. Why was no one there with him… and on the other hand, _where the hell was he?_ This was no hospital room. 

This was his room when he lived with Mimi.

It couldn’t be possible; he hadn’t been there in more than 20 years. _How could it be?_

John rolled on the bed to escape from the sweat-sticky sheets and to look for someone but he found himself getting tangled and tumbling off the bed, hitting the floor with force.

“Fuck!” He cursed while rubbing his butt and back, _what was with this small-ass bed?_ John was about to open his mouth to call for someone when he was interrupted by someone knocking on the door. _Banging more like it,_ he shuddered at the ominous sound.

 _“_ John! Wake up, ya lazy git! We have practice today!” someone shout and his jaw hit the floor.  No… not “any” someone. He could recognize that voice even if he were deaf; John’s heart began beating wildly.

Thought the voice further disconcerted John, he prayed it wasn’t another mirage. But he couldn’t believe his ears. _Could it really be?_   _Was it Paul? Impossible._ Paul was in London, with Linda and all the little McCartneys. _And what was he talking about?_

Before he could think more of it, the door was thrown open and there stood Paul, in all his young glory, with his Teddy boy outfit on and everything.

_What the fuck was happening?_

“Come on, John!” Paul said, eyeing him curiously. “What are you doing down there, mate? Fell out of bed, did yeh?” he added, a smirk decorating his chubby face.

For what felt like the first time in his life, John was lost for words, there was a lump in his throat and he could feel the sting of tears in his eyes. Paul was there, at grabbing distance; in what he had thought were his last minutes of life, John had wished to be with Paul.

And there he was.

 _This must be heaven then, a limbo, he hadn’t survived after all._ John concluded sadly. _Some sort of farewell. A chance to say the things he never did._

He took in Paul’s figure with sad eyes brimming with tears. He thought he was never going to see him again. Whatever this was, he was glad for the opportunity and he drank in the sight.

Paul frowned at John’s current state but said nothing, waiting for his friend to snap out of it. He was used to John’s antics.

“P-Paul?” the name spilled from his mouth almost involuntarily, as if his brain wanted too a confirmation that it indeed was his old friend who was standing right there.

“Yeah mate, it’s me. Who else, ya blind wanker?” Paul answered, his voice now laced with a bit of worry. “Well, I supposed it could have been Mimi, but she went out, told me I could come up. Weird, huh? Maybe I’m growing on her” he chuckled awkwardly “Are you okay?”

_No, I’m not, I’m bloody dead. Why are you asking?_

John said nothing and tried to get up but his legs were shaky, making him look like a newborn fawn. Paul saw this and quickly rushed to his aid, wrapping an arm around his waist and trying to pull him up. They didn’t get far though.

The moment Paul touched John, a loud sob escaped him and he threw himself at his younger friend, clinging to him as if his life depended on it, bawling his eyes out and burrowing his face on Paul’s neck.

The touch felt too real, he wouldn’t let it go to waste.

“John? What’s wrong, luv?” Paul whispered to his ear, making him shudder. “Did something happen? Did you had a bad dream?” he said, rubbing small, soothing circles in John’s back, while John was busy clinging to Paul and making a mess of snot at tears on his shirt.

John was inhaling Paul’s smell as much as he could between sobs before he was tore from this place. The leather, the cologne and the cigar, all mixed perfectly on Paul and John was absorbing it as a man starved. He missed this smell.

 _This is beyond cruel,_ John thought, _when all of this is gone it was going to hurt a thousand times more_. He began sobbing harder. _This is unfair._

“Tell me what’s wrong, babe.” Paul tried again after letting John cry for a while, curling around him more tightly. His weeping began to subside a bit at the action.

Every word Paul uttered felt like a balm for his wounds and he needed more.

“Say that again.” John demanded brokenly and he could feel Paul’s hesitation.

“Babe…?” Paul said after a second, and John smiled fondly against the younger’s one heating neck. Paul was always shy with his affections.

“I have missed you so much, Macca.” John said between shuddering breaths, “I’m never letting you go.” He added as he tightened his hold.

Paul tensed up in his arms and stilled his rubbing “What are you saying, Johnny? We saw each other yesterday.”

“No we didn’t. I haven’t seen you in 6 years.” John grumbled, “You are too busy with Linda and your kids.”

“Six years? What are you talking about? and who’s Linda?” Paul questioned nervously. “You are really worrying me now, mate, are you having me on?”

Paul’s genuine confusion alarmed John.

“I- no, what?” _great_ , John thought, _really articulated_. John pulled himself from Paul’s embrace to look directly at his big doe-eyes, searching for some sort of recognition. He found none and he couldn’t help but frown. _He doesn’t remember them?_

“Is this about Julia? Paul said, trying to guess the reason of Jonh’s current state “‘Cause she’ll be up and about in not time, no need to worry.” Paul said with a bright smile. “We can go see her today! Well… if you ever get your fat arse up, that’s it! Sod the practice.”

John froze, “Julia? What Julia?”

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you today? Yer mom, ya know her, right?” the younger man said cheekily although apprehension and irkness could be seen dancing in his eyes, but John ignored it. _Julia was here? It made sense_ , _with her being dead too and all_. What didn’t continue to make sense was everything Paul kept saying.

First _band practice_ , now this thing about his mom, he needed answers.

“What-I mean… what happened to her?” John cringed as he blurted the question; he had thousands of more pressing matters to ask about, he wanted to slap himself. Although… if this was about his mom, he really wanted to know.

Paul didn’t answer and instead began standing up, pulling John to his feet with him.

“Get changed and we will be on our way.” The younger man said in a clipped tone and John immediately knew that he had crossed his friend. How, he didn’t know, he was used to Paul’s prissy fits to be _that_ concerned though so he let it go.

His mind already felt way too boggle to add more concerns to it.

 _Why was all this so damn confusing?_ John would have thought that the after-life would’ve come with an explanation of sorts, just a recount on your life, your good deeds and your fuck-ups, the final judgment, heaven or hell,  all of that. But never this… whatever this was.

 John moved around slowly, testing his legs, fearing it all would end if he made a sudden movement… or if he fucked up in anyway, so he continued to move like a sloth.

“Need help changing now, too?” Paul’s grumpy voice pulled him out of his thoughts. John turned around and found his friend sitting on his bed, legs crossed like a bird and with his typical bitch face on.

John couldn’t help but laugh which in turn made Paul’s scowl more pronounced and John’s laugh grew louder.

“I’m leavin’!” Paul growled, standing up and heading for the door.

“No!” John felt panic well up inside and he rushed to stop his friend, trapping him with his arms. “Don’t leave me.” He said pathetically, squeezing him. “Don’t you dare leave me” Paul didn’t answer but grabbed the arms surrounding him, pulling John closer to him.

John didn’t need more confirmation. He sighed contently but didn’t let go.

They must be quite a sight, he mused, with him hugging Paul from behind and hiding his face on the younger man’s back, but he didn’t care. There was no one around and nothing felt better than hugging Paul, even when his heart was still pounding crazily in fear.

“Let’s go see yer mum, Johnny” Paul muttered, patting his hands, wanting to be released.

“O-Okay.”

* * *

John took another hour to get changed and Paul was on his wit’s end, he could tell, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

The surprises kept coming.  

John had found out he, too, was his younger self. Gone were the wrinkles and the thinning hair, instead he was the John Lennon from the early sixties. How early he didn’t know. He hadn’t asked, but he suspected it was barely 1960.  

He spent a good half an hour in front of the mirror, starring at his reflection and not believing what he was seeing. Not liking what he was seeing. He was used to his more mature self and his appearance right now was anything but, and if he remembers well, these years have been a nightmare in several different ways, his stomach felt queasy at the thought.

John shuddered and decided his current appearance wouldn’t do.

That is how the next 15 minutes went by; changing his looks as much as he could. He flattened his hair, forsaking the greasy quiff he knew he preferred during these times and aiming for something more Beatle-like…. or at least less cringe-worthy.

His outfit was a whole other matter. How could he ever wear any of those dreadful clothes? John wanted to laugh and cry at it all. He had spent the last 10 years of his life somehow subdued by a strong woman, he couldn’t possibly pull the macho-outfit now, it would feel too awkward, too wrong. 

John sighed, not sure why he was taking so much time with this and why he cared at all. This was going to end soon anyways, wasn’t it?

At the end he decided for a simple button-up shirt and fitted trouser similar to what he was used to, but with his current face he looked like a creepy church boy. 

“Fuck it” He growl at his reflection.

He just needed one more thing, and after browsing about he found the pair of black rimmed glasses he was looking for. By 1980, John had more than forgotten his repulsion to wearing glasses, more so, he liked them. His Buddy Holly glasses weren’t as gear looking as the round ones, but they´ll have to do, besides, he truly was blind without them.

After checking himself in the mirror for the last time and after huffing and whining some more, he went to join his soulmate at his aunt’s resting room, feeling restless and anxious. Paul had said they were going to see his mum and John still didn’t know what that meant. His mother was dead and dread was pooling in his gut.

_Would it be like going to the white light at the end of the tunnel? Was his mother here just to welcome him? To help him through…_

_Is this why Paul is here too? To scort him?_ He hadn’t thought about it, but the presence of his black-haired friend didn’t make any sense. 

John felt panic’s familiar grip starting to suffocate him and he noticed his legs were shaking as he climb down the stairs. He took a deep breath when he walked into living room looking for his friend.  He noticed Paul was sitting on one of the couches, reading a magazine, pouting a bit, and John’s mouth pulled into a watery smile at the sight.

After all this years, he still loves Paul. It amazed him.

“I’m ready.” He said, more to prepare himself than anything else.

Paul turned to look at him, his eyes widening as big as saucers and his jaw dropping. “You… what are you wearing?”

 “You like it?” John slurred lasciviously, he couldn’t help it, even with his gloomy mood, it was in his blood and John was delighted in watching his friend blush at his leering voice.

 _Some things never change._  

“Sod off!” Paul snapped before getting up from the couch and walking out the door with haste. John smirked and ran after his friend.

 _Onto a final adventure,_ he mused as he stepped out of Mimi’s house and onto Liverpool’s streets.

John didn’t know what was happening, what happened after he was shot, why he was there or when would this end. He didn’t know a lot of things, _but as long as I’m with him, I don’t need to understand everything,_ he thought as he caught up with Paul, bumping his shoulders and keeping them mashed against each other.

 _I will enjoy this for now,_ he decided.

* * *

They walked in companionable silence for a while, John taking in everything like a mad man. It’s been so long since he last was in Liverpool and as he walked down the streets he realized with sadness that he had forgotten a lot about his birth place.

When he was this age -20 he assumes- he couldn’t wish for anything else than to get out of there, but now a wave of nostalgia was invading him. Liverpool had given him so much.

After walking for a few minutes, John realized this was going to be his last chance to clear up some stuff and with each step his time was running out, so he needed to do it fast.

 “Paulie, what year is it?” John asked first, a bit absent minded, not looking at his friend.

“Wha’?” He could feel Paul’s eyes on him; John knew Paul didn’t like to be joked on.

John rolled his eyes, “Just humor me, luv.”

“1960” His friend answered sharply and John sighed, he was right then.

“Why 1960 then?” John asked, now with his head turned to look at his friend. “I mean, God could’ve picked any other date for this, couldn’t he? 1957, when we met… or I don’t know! Hell, even 1967, you looked so fit that year, wouldn’t have minded another go.”

Now that the first question was out all the others just came pouring out like vomit and he couldn’t stop it.

“And why are you here, do I get Yoko next?” John narrowed his eyes at Paul “You are not dead, are ya?” he added as an afterthought. Paul’s eyes were wide open, dumbfounded, with a look of utter confusion, unable to answer. “Oh! Will I get to see Eppy again? I miss the fairy bastard.”

“Wha-“ Paul tried to interrupt but John was too far gone in his trance.

“And what about The Beatles? Oh God! Ya’re gonna have all the rights to our songs, you’re gonna be filthy rich.” He laughed but not really caring about it. “Ha! The Lennon/McCartney legacy will be in good hands”

John didn’t know what was spewing out of his mouth anymore; he was rambling by now, not even caring that Paul hadn’t answer to anything he had asked, he just wanted to talk and to clear all the questions that were cavorting around in his brain.

“I wonder what the world will say about my death and what will Yoko do now… and Sean… and for fuck’s sake, Julian! I was so terrible with my son, Paul” He trailed off, his thoughts taking a turn to a darker place but he didn’t want to spoil the mood. These were his last moments with his Paul after all.

 _Shit_ ,

“I hope you miss me Paul, but not too much, I wouldn’t like to see you sad.” He said next with a soft voice, stopping his walk completely and turning to face his friend.

He took a deep breath, now was his last chance to say what he never did.

“Paul?” John said, trying to get his friend’s attention but Paul had stop walking but remained still, facing forward, clearly avoiding facing him.

“Paul, please look at me.” He pleaded, resting his hand on his friend’s shoulder, prompting him to turn. “I need to tell you something.” He added gravely.

Paul turned slowly and John saw fear and confusion in his big eyes, “Wha’?” He asked shakily, “More nonsense, is it?”

John ignored Paul words and looked directly into his soulmates’ eyes, trying to convey everything he felt.

“I love you Paul.” John blurted without further ado, this wasn’t the time to beat around the bush. “I have always loved you and I probably always will.” He continued in a rush “I didn’t realize I was in love with you until it was too late for us and I hurt you because of it, we both hurt each other terribly and I’m deeply sorry about it”

Paul’s eyes turned shiny with tears and his face was red in embarrassment, shocked with his usually-tough friend’s confession.

“We are soulmates Paulie, I know for sure and we were meant to be together and I hope in other life we can be happy” John wished from the bottom of his heart.

And just like that John was crushing his lips with Paul’s in a demanding kiss. Paul was stunned, unmoving, his lips unresponsive and after a few seconds John felt a strong push against his chest, making him stagger back.

“What’s wrong with you John!” Paul shouted indignantly, whipping his lips. “D’ya think this is a bloody joke?”

“No!” John yelled indignantly, “Never!”

“Then what? Was all that true?” Paul spat angrily, “Are you queer?” he added with forced disgust.

John stared at his friend’s furious face and couldn’t help but laugh.

“Queer?” He said, “Nobody says that anymore, son. Nobody cares anymore either.” John chuckled amused.

Paul opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, clearly baffled by John’s nonchalance and weary because, he hadn’t exactly denied it, hasn’t he?

“I’m bloody tired of your shit, mate!” Paul shouted when he regained his composure, shaking all over, “We could have been arrested for that shite you just pulled. Is this another of your tests?” His younger friend asked agitated, punching John’s chest with force. “Stop it, please.” He pleaded, his voice wavering with emotion.

John grabbed the younger man’s wrist to stop his assault, “I’m not joking, but alright, I will stop” he conceded.

“Thank you,” Paul mumbled, resuming his brisk walk. “Now hurry up, this trip is taking the whole bloody day.”

They remained silent for the rest of the journey to the hospital, John relishing in the tingling feeling on his lips. Even if the kiss was way to short and not their first, he still remembers those late nights at the studio, stoned out of their minds when they would fool around like that, but even those kisses couldn’t rival this one, because John had confessed his love, finally. Confessed! Him of all people! John felt giddy and happy.

And he couldn’t stop starring at his soulmate. Even with his silly Ted outfit and the hairdo, John found him beautiful; he specially loved his sheep eyes –as Mimi used to call them- they are so expressive and he wanted to stare at them forever.

 _My 20 year old-self would have first killed himself than have these thoughts,_ John thought amusedly.

Even his grown-up self never really accepted his infatuation with Paul, seeing him more as a rival than a possible love interest, even if his soul was aching for it. He was blinded by stereotypes and society that he actually missed the change to be with his other half.

Now every little judgment and possible consequence seemed so little. Now that it was too late.

 I _guess death is a humbling experience._ John sighed; this whole experience had been an emotional roller-coaster.

“Take a picture, it will last you longer, ya big queen.” Paul harrumphed, startling John out of his, now depressing, reverie. He realized he had never taken his eyes off his friend. _Like a proper creeper._ John smirked, sensing his opportunity to tease his friend a bit. 

“Oh, but I have thousands of them, luv! Got a few ‘anging in me house, y’ know? Have ‘hem big and framed for all to see” He said, exaggerating his accent for comedic purpose. It wasn’t a lie either, just the part where everyone could see them. Those pictures were his and his alone; he had filled his studio with them if Yoko wouldn’t have a fit over it, so he had a modest few out on exhibition and the rest on a private album.

“And I know you’ve got that photo you took of me sleeping when we were in Paris.” He added, bumping his shoulder.

His younger friend blushed at the insinuation, but brushed it off coolly, “Paris? We’ve never been there, son. I reckon you mistook me with one of your birds.” Paul visibly cringed the moment the words were out of his mouth; knowing it would only fuel the fire.

And so it did.

“I don’t think so, luv. Would never mistake you, I wouldn’t. You are the best I’ve ever had and the prettiest for sure.” John teased, his voice full of innuendo, he was flirting shamelessly with the black-haired boy and god, did he miss it. “Wouldn’t change you for anyone.” He ran the back of his hand softly over Paul’s cheek, an intimate gesture that had his friend jump almost a mile away from him and rubbing his cheek until it reddened.

"Fuck you." Paul mouthed at John from afar, but the words had no bite in it and he slowly closed in again against John. 

John smiled at the whole exchange, even if he wasn’t known for being soft and sentimental; he had always considered himself a romantic. He wrote more than a thousand love songs and now, when all his love was pilling, spilling over, his heart not able to contain it all, he wanted to pour it onto Paul. So he did the only thing he could think of. He sung.

 _“There are places I remember_  
All my life though some have changed  
Some forever not for better.”

Before the fame, before the Beatles, their music was dialogue between them, a way of expressing feelings they couldn’t very well say out loud. Everything had been so simple. John remembers all the little gigs in fairs, churches and pubs, when they would sing back to back without a care in the world. They could only breathe freely through music, so Paul and John talked like that, in their own language and when they were done, they pretended that they hadn’t just spilled they hearts out for each other in their music.

When the last key rang out, the spell was gone, no matter how many meaningful glances they exchanged or how they eyes kept meeting when they sung a particular word or phrase, like “I love you”, how close they would get, but they felt content like that.

But then fame came and chains that they themselves made were put around their necks. The whole “Beatle legacy”, the “good boys appearance” all of those things had tightened the noose and they suffocated.

John doesn’t remember when it ended or how could they accept it so easily. How could they ignore their love just like that?

With time their language became muddle and harder to understand, even when their hearts and souls were the ones writing the lyrics they no longer knew what it all meant. Long forgotten were their early days and their private talks. Their brains winning over their hearts and rivalry winning over love.

It had happened time and time again. With “If I fell”, “You’ve got to hide your love away”, “Here, there and everywhere.” It was all hidden at plain sight, but everything was so staged that even Paul and John ended up believing the lies.  No longer able to keep up with the farce.

The farce of: “Of course it’s for Jane, who else?”, “Yeah, every love song I write is for Linda,” the hearts of the song each bleeding a little under all the false pretenses.

Soon every lyric was about their respective partners, even if they didn’t made sense when explaining them like that. Even if it fell wrong. John and Paul didn’t realize when it all changed and they weren’t that concerned about it either.

They just kept going,

Everything became a business and money.

But it was obvious now, _how could they ever miss all of this? How could they just brush it off?_

John was just realizing this; it came to him like air. He opened his mouth, “In my life” spilling out of it, and suddenly everything made sense, the blindfold that was put over his eyes when they became famous was finally off. This felt more important than his love confession, this was their old love, not one John found the courage to admit only now that he was dead. This was them, naked. 

_“But of all these friends and lovers  
There is no one compares with you.” _

Dreams, desires and wishes were embedded in each lyric and they would stay there for eternity and John couldn’t be more grateful for that, couldn’t be more grateful for their stubborn hearts, wanting to communicate with each other in any possible way. He just hopes someday Paul will understand just as he did.

 _"Though I know I'll never lose affection_  
For people and things that went before  
I know I'll often stop and think about them  
In my life I love you more.”

John finished singing, feeling renewed at finally making sense of that song, finally giving it the soul it oh-so-need it. He couldn’t wait to sing their entire repertoire with this new spirit.

He was sure Paul had felt it too; his younger friend was obviously awestruck. His face was sporting a big ass grin and his eyes were sparkling with emotion. John felt his Paul was only a few second away of jumping in glee and he couldn’t help but match his grin. A silent conversion going on between them.

“What did you think, then, Paulie?” John asked breathily.

Paul was about to say something when a shrill voice interrupted them, “Johnny, my baby! I thought you were never coming! What took you so long?”

John’s eyes opened wide, turning to look at the source of the voice and founding the small form of his mother. She was the same as he remembers, red hair, silly grin, kind eyes. She look a bit thin though, disheveled and with a cast on one of her legs, but there she was. 

They had been so engrossed in their little musical world that they hadn’t realized they had reached the entrance of the hospital, where some patients would get some fresh air now and again. He also hadn’t noticed his mom standing a few meters away, observing them with a fond look in her eyes.

“Well, are you gonna stand there all day or are you going to hug your mum?” she said cheekily, a smirk spreading in her face. “I can’t very well go there, can I? With this bloody thing on me leg.” She added, lightly touching her cast with her crutch.

John didn’t need anything else, promptly running towards his mom and enveloping her in a crushing embrace.

John breath in, another slot finally clicking right in his soul, “Mum.” He whimpered. “You are here. I have missed you so much.”

Julia was sniffing, “I know, my boy. I’m so sorry Johnny, it wasn’t my intention to leave you so early, both of the times. I wanted to be with you, believe me.”

“I do, mum, I do now.” John said sadly. His resentment and hurt suddenly feeling a bit less overbearing.

“And you my stupid, stupid boy. You weren’t supposed to get shot.” Julia uttered brokenly, tears running freely down her cheeks and hiccups interrupting her words.

John stilled, and he couldn’t avoid the watery chuckle that left his mouth at his mom words, “You know me, always doing everything wrong.” Julia hit him.

“This is no joking matter, boy!” his mom chastised and John mumble a quiet “sorry mum”. “You still had so much to do! The world needs John Lennon to keep it right. Your music still had to influence several more generations.” She finished quietly, now both had matching tears in their eyes.

John said nothing, the words were stuck on his throat and anyways, and nothing he could say would change his fate or would make his current situation any better.

Julia smiled softly, her heart reaching for her misunderstood son. She knew how difficult it was to be different, to be beyond everyone else.  She had never took her eyes off John during his lifetime and she had watched time and time again how her son made the most awful decisions in his eagerness to fit in, to find someone who would love him unconditionally. How John decided that he was the problem and that he had to change in order for people to love him.

She thought he had found it in Paul, the perfect match and so it was. For a few years they were everything each of them needed, but society would never condone a union like that and so they were separated, tearing each other in the process.

But now John could make it right, now he could finally be completely happy.

“Well, be glad you have such an awesome mom and that she got you a second chance. It wasn’t easy Johnny, you owe me big time.” She said, grinning widely.

John frowned, not understanding, “A second chance at what?”

“At life, of course!”


End file.
